


Be sweet to me

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Charles misses Max; Max explains their enduring attraction.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Kudos: 10





	Be sweet to me

His breath catches at the sound of a key in the door, a familiar foot on the stair. 

Charles Emerson Winchester III has been waiting for this moment all day, but he strives to appear calm. It is very late, after all. Maxwell may be tired. Charles tries very hard never to be selfish when it comes to his lover. He had spent far too long being selfish overseas, abusing his sweet girl out of misguided notions that Max was somehow  _ less _ because of his heritage, his class - and therefore fit to be ordered about or run ragged in the name of his comfort. Now, now Charles does absolutely all he can do to be generous, which means standing when Max comes into the study and holding him close - it’s  _ never _ close enough! - breathing in the yellow leaf smell of New England autumn that rises from his cold, dark hair. 

“You used to wear hats,” Charles reminds him. “Might it not be time to rotate them back into your look?”

Max’s eyes shine. “You know I love takin’ fashion advice from you, baby.”  _ Being what you like to see _ . “I wasn’t out in the wind too long, promise.”

“And are you adequately prepared for your exam, do you think?” 

Max shrugs, wrinkles his nose. “I can’t cram anything else in my head, anyway.”

Charles knows he is underestimating himself; Max is an excellent student. “And you tucked your creatures in for the night?”

As a work study student, Max sees to the college's zoology collection. Both the faculty and the animals adore him. 

“Godzilla got loose.” Max sighs. “That added half an hour.”

Charles smiles. Godzilla is a feisty black throated monitor - a huge lizard that follows at Max’s heels like a pup. 

“I love ‘im,” Max says, “but I wish he didn’t look at the other animals like  _ food _ ! There’s something awful about a lizard that would eat a kitten, you know.” Godzilla’s diet is not kittens, of course, but fish, eggs, crawdads, and roaches. “I’ll have to ask Father Mulcahy about that next time I talk to ‘im,” he says. “Why they’re made that way.” 

Amused, Charles says gently, “I do not know if he will have an answer, beloved.”

“That’s okay.” He climbs into Charles’ lap, snuggling against his chest. “He likes me to ask ‘im stuff - like you and music, Major.” 

“You are too thin, my sweet.” His fingers can almost span Max’s waist. “Did you have dinner?” 

“Uh-huh. We went over to the student union.” We is Max’s study group and Charles knows dinner was a fried chicken sandwich slathered in mayonnaise. He makes a mental note to add fruit to breakfast. Max smooths his hands over the front of Charles’ shirt. “You sure worry ‘bout me a lot. Somethin’ on your mind, Major?” 

_ You. You beneath me. _ “No. Only that I adore you.”

“You’re trembling, you know. I still get to you that much? Even now?”

Charles thinks of engaging in teasing wordplay, but then he just sighs, contented, grateful. “You know that you do.”

“So? You gonna ask me or what?” 

“Ask you?”

“To go to bed. You want to.”

“I do not wish to impose, darling. You have had a very long day and your test is tomorrow.” 

Max cups his face and shakes his head at him. “Baby... you’re  _ not _ an obligation, you know. You’re not  _ work _ . I love ta be good to you. Love ta undress you, get you hot. You been sitting here thinkin’ about me all day?”

“Yes.” 

“Then get up, silly. Lemme get you outta your head. Out of your trousers, too.” He winks. 

“Maxwell!” 

“I want to, baby. Come on. Our bed’s waiting. You can tell me just what you want on the way.”

Charles follows - he’d follow Max through bullets or fire - but he doesn’t speak. He’s too keyed up. Fortunately, Max is practiced at reading him and, in their room, he pushed Charles down on the bed - his head in the middle of the bed, his feet on the floor. Max kneels at those feet and nuzzles his thighs, reaches his hands up to stroke his chest; Charles’ nipples are already peaked beneath the fabric. 

“Relax, big fella,” Max teases when his breath escapes in a near-gasp. “I’m not gonna let you down.” 

Charles whimpers, needing him, needing him so much. “Please, Maxwell. Come up here, please.” 

He’s in jeans and denim will not offer Charles the contact he so clearly needs. “Which skirt, Major baby?”

“The pink, please.”

Max makes record time swapping denim for patterned linen with an intricate hem, a lace slip. As he sinks over the Major, he wins a new caliber of gasp - and they are still touching through clothes, only. 

Max hurries to open his lover’s shirt; he wants to see the blush that he knows is there, winding up his throat now, soon to brighten his cheeks and ears. He loves to trace patterns over the muscles in Charles’ chest and arms, but this is for Charles, not for him. He tugs the tails of his shirt free, thinking just how damn good this man looks in a vented suit. 

“You shoulda called me ta come home,” he teases. 

“You needed to prepare for your test. I did consider coming to get you at the library. I... I did not think I could control myself however.”

“You were gonna park in alley and ask me ta go down on you in the  _ car _ ?”

“... yes...”

“Oh, Major baby... I’ll do that anytime. I’ll do you anywhere.”

“Do not say that. You will only get us into trouble.”

“Best kind of trouble. Can I getcha out of these pants, now, please?” 

“I fear that you must. My hands... seem to be of no use except for holding onto you.” 

“You just hold on nice and tight, baby.” He opens Charles’ belt, caressing his stomach, making him whine and pump his hips. It’s Max’s turn to gasp when he bares those hips and finds Charles leaking against his expensive underwear. “I love when you think sweet things about me, Major. This ever happen to you when we were over there? Did I ever get you nice and hard like this?”

“Yes...” Charles’ voice is strained. “When you did sentry duty in a skirt. I could hear your heels as you walked back and forth... could feel the echo of them  _ in _ me. You made me  _ ache _ .” 

“I woulda helped ya.” He slides down his lap and takes his pants with him, his underwear, wraps his fingers around the base of him, and kisses around the head, flicks his tongue over the slit. “Shhh, shh, shh,” he murmurs then, breath warm. “I’m just getting you ready.”

Charles just moans softly; he wants Max back in his lap. 

Max holds a hand up and lets him pull him near, fabric splaying over Charles’ thighs. “Oh, darling... how do you feel so very new every time?” 

“I dunno, but can I tell you somethin’ I learned in class today?”

“ _ Now _ ?”

Max rocks against him, teasing with every single motion, making each pass long and sweet and slow. “Yeah. ‘S about us, I think.”

“Please.”

“Didja know bees have a positive charge, Major baby? It helps, oh, mmmm, pollen, oh, stick to ‘em.” 

Charles has mastered himself enough to answer the motions Max is gifting him, the slow roll of his hips. “Oh?”

“Flowers have a, oh, a negative charge. They match. Go together.”

Charles lets his head fall back as they’re joined - sweet and true and right as the very first time. Max’s eyes are as wide and wet as they were then, he sees, and Charles’ adoration only grows as Maxwell guides him nearer to his release. “In this color, you, ah, oh, my dear - you are as pretty as any flower. As bright. An adornment of which I, oh, oooh, Max, am scarcely worthy.” 

“You’re not listening, Major baby. I woulda ended up in your lap no matter what. I belong here. You belong with me.”  _ Deep in me as a bee in a flower _ . He sits deeper in his lap. He wants to be as covered with Charles as bees get covered with pollen. “So how ‘bout you go ‘head and show me how much you like it? Havin’ me?”

Charles flashes him a desperate look. 

“Charles, please? For me, baby? I wanna feel it. Feel you. I want it so bad.” 

Max begging him to climax in that too-innocent voice he uses to remind Charles that he took his virginity (pleasurably) is more than Charles can endure; the only reason the neighbors don’t hear his exultant shout is that Max covers his mouth even as he settles deeper in his lap, rocks nice and slow until Charles is through the final tremors, eyes wet from the intensity of wanting Max  _ always _ and having him right now. He shudders down onto the bed, back wet with sweat, hair curling from the warmth in the room. “Maxwell, come here. Come down here. I want you in my arms.”  **_Shaking_ ** _ in my arms.  _

Max eases down, facing away from him so that Charles can massage his back and neck, can kiss his throat as his magic fingers wrap around him. Usually, he would get Max nice and wet with his mouth, but his chest is still heaving and he wants to bury his nose in Max’s hair, to breathe him in until his lungs are coated with the dark cherry and almond scent of him. Max’s hips jump. Smiling, Charles tells him every ridiculous fantasy he entertained throughout the day, tells him how much he needs him, how wild he becomes under him. “I can scarcely be a, ah, a gentleman with you, my dear. If it wasn’t for your love of clothing, I would have ruined most of yours by now.” 

Max mewls for him. He loves when Charles gently cherishes him - but Charles losing control? It’s practically illicit - an unexpected treat that never fails to get him hot. 

“I am going to ruin you, now, pet. To have you. To make you come so very hard for me. And you will be so, so  _ beautiful _ as you do.” 

He doesn’t have to say anything else (Max worked long and hard to make that glorious, perfect, amazingly sexy Atlantic-bred voice say the word “come” in the right context); he barely has to touch him. Max curls up, gives him everything — and when he comes to, Charles is making slow circles on his naked back, saying, “I love you, Maxwell,” with his fingertips, his lips pressing worshipful kisses to the back of his neck to punctuate the sentiment. 

“Mmmm,” Max hums for his touch. 

“Are you buzzing for me, my sweet little bee?”

“I thought I was the flower.”

“You are mine. That is enough for me - and I would adore you no matter what form you took.”

“I’m jus’ wonderin’ if I should leave you home alone more often or not.”

Laughing, Charles drags him onto his chest. “No, pet, I do not think that you should!”

“I dunno, Major baby. You bein’ all enthusiastic- it’s flattering.”

“I will happily  _ flatter _ you all night, love - but tomorrow, yes? You need to sleep to do well tomorrow.”

“Deal. Pick me up, huh? After the test?”

Charles promises. He smiles as he curls around the slighter man. He will bring flowers, he promises himself - and while they are apart, he knows his heart will turn in Max’s direction, as bees turn toward flowers, ready to kiss their sweetness from them, as flowers turn toward the sun. 

End! 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
